


I Love You So

by Dredfulhapiness



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Marriage Proposal, Peter and Morgan have one braincell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25292746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dredfulhapiness/pseuds/Dredfulhapiness
Summary: Peter groaned into his elbow. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”“It was just a suggestion,” she shot back. Her neutral expression turned into a scowl. “You should have known that it was a stupid one!”And, okay, she was right. Peter had seen enough sitcoms that he should have known “your fingers are about the same size. Why don’t you try the ring on yourself?” wouldn’t end well.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 99





	I Love You So

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "I can't feel it. That's bad, right?"

She was only eleven years old, but Peter had decided to die on the hill that this was Morgan’s fault. She had decided to die on the hill that she was, in fact, eleven years old. 

“I can’t feel it. That’s bad, right?” Peter cradled his left hand in his right, staring down at where his finger was turning a worrying red.

“It can’t be _good.”_ Morgan watched him pace from the comfort of her bed. She hugged a pillow to her chest, watching with idle curiosity as Peter panicked. 

Peter groaned into his elbow. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“It was just a _suggestion,”_ she shot back. Her neutral expression turned into a scowl. “You should have known that it was a stupid one!” 

And, okay, she was right. Peter had seen enough sitcoms that he should have known “your fingers are about the same size. Why don’t you try the ring on yourself?” wouldn’t end well. 

“I’m meeting MJ in an hour,” Peter said. “What am I gonna do?” 

“Wear a glove?” 

“Morg, I _can’t feel my finger.”_

She shrugged dramatically in response. _What do you want me to do about it?_

Peter turned his attention to her dresser, where all of their exhausted efforts sat. Butter, canola oil, grease, sewing thread. He could still see the imprint of that last one on his swollen finger, a tight, white coil right below the engagement ring. They'd been at this for three hours already-- all because he’d decided he couldn't wait for MJ to decide whether or not it needed to be resized.

“We have saws in the garage?” Morgan suggested, tilting her head. “If it goes poorly, at least you heal fast.” 

“I can’t cut it off. I spent two month’s salary on it.” 

“You get paid commission,” Morgan corrected. Peter turned to glare at her. “Okay, fine-- no cutting it.”

“I’m supposed to propose tonight. I picked out the restaurant and everything, and if I miss _another_ date she’ll be pissed--”

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand. “Just-- calm down. I’ll look up some more stuff we can try. And if you’re late just say Dad and Mom were late coming home and you couldn’t just leave me home alone. Girls think guys that are good with kids are charming.” 

Peter stopped pacing and squinted at her. “How old are you again?”

“Younger than I am wise-- Oh, here’s something we haven’t tried.” She held her phone screen out so he could see. Peter sighed.

\--

“Why are we doing this in the bathroom?” Peter asked. He perched on the counter, the faucet digging into the small of his back.

“Because if we get Windex everywhere, I’ll wipe it off the mirror and kill two birds with one stone. Give me your hand.” 

Peter lowered his hand and removed the ice pack he had wrapped around it. Relief flooded his chest when his finger looked the tiniest bit smaller than it had fifteen minutes before. Maybe this _would_ work and he could propose to his girlfriend without a hitch. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Morgan sprayed his finger with the solemnity of a seasoned cleaner. The grease on the ring ran, dripped down his finger. Peter rushed to move his hand over the basin of the sink. “Let it soak in for a second.” 

“Soak into what? My skin?” 

He let it soak. 

When he tugged on it, the ring didn’t budge. 

He grit his teeth, and pulled a little harder. 

His knuckle cracked.

“Shit.” 

“Shit is right.” Morgan nodded. “Maybe you can--”

“Morgan, your parents are home,” Friday said. Peter felt the color drain from his face. 

“That means it’s five thirty. Friday, is it five thirty?” 

“It’s five thirty one.” 

Peter hopped off the counter. He rushed back into Morgan’s room and grabbed his coat. He threw his tie over his shoulders, loose. “Fuck-- Fuck, I gotta-- shit, don’t tell your parents I said fuck.”

“Uh... You’re _still_ wearing the ring,” Morgan said, watching him hop around the room to put his shoes on. 

“I know, I-- I have an idea. I’m gonna--” He took the stairs down three at a time, Morgan following close behind. 

Tony’s face brightened when he saw Peter barreling down the stairs. “Hey, how’d it go?”

“Great. Great-- went amazing. Great kid you got. Sorry, can’t talk. Running late.” Peter grabbed his car keys off the hook by the front door. His coat was still only on one arm. Pepper and Tony exchanged a Look, then looked at Morgan for an explanation. 

“He’s proposing to MJ,” she explained, bored. Pepper gasped.

“He’s _what?”_ She whirled around and aimed an accusatory glance to Peter. He already had the front door open. 

“Bye!” 

“I-- wait!” Tony followed him out to the porch. Peter’s car beeped as he unlocked it. 

“No time! Gotta run!”

“Well, good luck, at least!” Pepper offered, still aghast. 

\--

Peter managed to make it to the restaurant at the same time as MJ. She was reaching for the handle when Peter swept in, right hand on her shoulder, guiding her to the side, in front of the window. The warm light through the window lit her face like a candle-- soft and delicate, and Peter was already regretting the plan.

She grinned at him. There were a few pieces of hair hanging loose from her hat. Her nose was red with the cold. Peter shoved his left hand even deeper into his coat pocket.

“Hey!”

“Hey, you’re on time!” she laughed, and Peter’s stomach did somersaults. “I thought I’d have to keep our table warm.” 

“Yeah, about that,” Peter said, and he didn’t miss the way she braced herself. The expression only lasted a second-- grit teeth and drawn brows-- before her grin returned. “I was actually thinking. Okay, so I need you to bear with me here, because this isn’t really going how _I_ wanted it to go, either, but sometimes life is _like that--”_

“Peter, breathe.”

He did. 

He looked around them, at the sprawling, crowded New York streets and the fake grape vines spread across the ceiling of the restaurant they should have been sitting inside already. And at MJ-- MJ with her uncertain smile, and her grounding hand on his shoulder, and her purse with a first aid kit in it just for him. 

“I’ll just--” 

He dropped to one knee. MJ’s eyes widened. 

“Okay, you’re not allowed to laugh--”

“Peter?” 

“--Because this comes from a place of love. And, really what better way to sum up our love than a messed up date and--”

_“Peter.”_

“My point being,” Peter steered himself back onto the right track, “I love you so much. You’re my best friend, and the smartest person I know, and I wake up every day and think about how _lucky_ I am to have you sleeping next to me. And how I want to think that every day for the rest of my life. And-- if you feel the same way-- would you want to marry me?” 

“I--” MJ said, and the shock melted off her face when Peter pulled his hand out of his pocket and held it out to her. She threw a hand over her mouth-- snorted.

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I never said that,” she said, but it came out in a single breath between giggles. 

“I feel like you’ve lost sight of the point here,” Peter said. “Will you--” 

MJ put her hands on his cheeks and pulled him up to kiss her. Her shoulders were still jumping. There was a wetness under her eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you,” She said, and at least that was coherent. 

Across the street, someone whooped. MJ buried her face in Peter’s shoulder, the sound of her laughter muffled by his coat. 

“I just-- how did that happen?”

“Morgan?” He tried, and she practically wailed at that. She held herself up with a hand on his forearm. “I wasn’t kidding about the dinner thing, by the way... This has been on my finger for, like, four hours. I think I need to go to the ER.” 

MJ heaved a few more breaths. When she’d calmed down a little, she pulled away and managed to make eye contact with Peter. There were tears streaming down her face.

“I need all the details on the way there,” She managed, though her voice came out strangled. “... A summation of our love,” she agreed, and Peter found himself laughing, too. 

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this one. I've been frantically writing Spideychelle all week... Whoops
> 
> Feel free to come talk to me on Tumblr @dredfulhapiness , my ask box is always open for head canons or fic requests!


End file.
